


three of a kind

by lionsenpai



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Bondage, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 19:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3220835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionsenpai/pseuds/lionsenpai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LeBlanc has survived for centuries on stolen magic, and her time in the League will be no different. She is a master of her craft, but even she has never seen anything like that which surrounds Kayle and Morgana. By setting things in motion between the two, she begins her game—one she knows she will eventually win.</p><p>Alternatively: LeBlanc plays fuck-fuck games with angel sisters until they hook up and then come back for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	three of a kind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lost_in_translation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_in_translation/gifts).



> Warnings for sisters of some capacity fucking and mentions of LeBlanc using shapeshifting magic to have sex with Kayle as Morgana even if it was known by both parties. 
> 
> A VERY belated birthday present for J. Hope you like!

Comeuppance comes with the night, slithering through the cracks like shadows until Leblanc is wrapped in it, warm bodies pressed close, hot mouths even closer. The hum of ancient magic, millennia older than her own, slides across her skin in dark, shifting glyphs, binding her shape and limbs alike. She breaths deep, the air alive with the scent of pine needles underfoot, forgotten rituals, the scrape of stone against her palms, and Morgana’s magic envelopes her like a sable cloak.

“You seem unsurprised,” the witch comments from behind her, light from the hearth washing over her pale skin as she taps the side of LeBlanc’s neck, feeling for her pulse. Even in warm firelight, she carries a sickly pallor, skin tinged violet like her magic. Idly, LeBlanc wonders if it’s all there, right below the surface, if it will come spilling out at the prick of a blade.

 _Another time_ , she decides, looking away from the mirror across from them as Kayle rises as though bidden and sets her lips upon the spot Morgana touched. She is gentle, far gentler than she’s ever been with LeBlanc before, but her kiss still makes her gut churn with heat, twisting like a pit of snakes.

“Surprised, yes, but not unpleasantly so,” LeBlanc says, managing to keep her voice steadier than she would have expected squeezed between the two of them, held captive by magic of another plane. “I have been _aching_ to see what you can do. The two of you together, that is.”

Her robe parts easily for touch, the satin pooling at her shoulder and hanging shapelessly around her. Morgana’s fingers graze LeBlanc’s sides, and the glyphs along her skin respond with a faint hum, making her touch ice and fire all at once. It sends shivers down her spine, threatening to make her knees buckle—not that she isn’t sure the magic binding her will also keep her standing even if her legs give out.

“You have great interest in my sister and I,” Morgana agrees, setting her finger to LeBlanc’s collarbone. Kayle drops to it, her lips and tongue raising bruises with the most exquisite care, her back and wings outlined in cuts of yellow and orange by the fire.

She’d been all bluster and force when LeBlanc had come to her before, biting, scratching, bending LeBlanc over a table and fucking her sore. Hers was a sort of anger which burned low as cinders, not quite extinguished, and then leapt to a roaring flame at the slightest provocation. She’d thought Kayle had wanted blood from Morgana; a miscalculation on her part. Nothing of the rage she’d seen before existed within Kayle now, and LeBlanc has to wonder: was it the reunion between sisters which soothed her, or was it the remembrance of her leash?

“Overmuch, perhaps. And a vile wit to match it.” Morgana appraises her from behind, her gaze like the caress of a blade, careful enough not to cut, but more than capable. “It was quite the shock when, after all that begging, you didn’t show for our rendezvous. Even more surprising when Kayle arrived instead and had the audacity to throw herself at me, thinking me you.”

“I apologized,” Kayle says, stalwart as ever, her blonde hair cascading down her slim shoulders to brush against the bared expanse of LeBlanc’s stomach.

“Loudly. And repeatedly.” Morgana smiles and slips her hand beneath LeBlanc’s brassiere, the gentle touch provoking a stutter in her breath. “Yet from the person who set us up, there has been nothing of the sort. Stealing my form and seducing my sister, willing though she was—” Kayle murmurs something into LeBlanc’s skin and then resumes her work. “Lying to immortals is a dangerous game to play, LeBlanc. I didn’t think someone of your age would need telling.”

Immortals are all like that, LeBlanc knows. They think themselves the most lethal things to ever exist, but LeBlanc has spent centuries playing dangerous games, and she knows only to enter those she can win.

“You aren’t immortal,” LeBlanc responds as Kayle moves lower, playing with the strap of her bra between her teeth until Morgana pushes the fabric up, revealing the swell of her breast and one dark nipple. Her voices drops at the warmth of that mouth against her burning flesh. “Not truly.”

Morgana leans in, hot breath caressing her ear, and walks her fingers down LeBlanc’s hips. “You deal in information, correct? Where did you find that little morsel?” She clicks her tongue, and it’s inappropriately thrilling, sending pleasure racing through her. Kayle grazes her teeth over her nipple, and she shudders, exhalation raw and throaty. “You must have been sitting on that for some time, hiding it away to use at this very moment. Tell me, LeBlanc, how long does your game extend?”

“Far beyond this,” LeBlanc admits, not without a touch of pride.

“And what else do you know of Kayle and I? What other reveals do I have to look forward to?” Her hand drifts to the silk of LeBlanc’s undergarment, a single, hard caress leaving her breathless.

Pleasure and release make for the sweetest torture; a kiss can loosen a tongue as easily as a knife, and LeBlanc tries to roll her hips down into her, but the magic grants her nothing. She can take only what Morgana and Kayle give, and yet as generous as she’s been with the sisters, the look in Morgana’s eyes is searching, warm violet with a deadly edge. The sight of her is nearly as powerful as her touch.

“Only that Kayle called your name when it should have been mine on her lips.” LeBlanc’s smile is an offering, freely given. “It speaks well of you.”

Morgana’s laugh is only matched by Kayle’s stuttering. The blonde looks away quickly, ivory wings twitching delicately. For all her steadiness, all her resolve, in the end, LeBlanc sees she needs a heavier hand in bed. Perhaps that was why she called for Morgana instead when she first came to her, but that little misstep had set the rest of the pieces in place. A play at forms was all it took to see the familiarity in the touch when LeBlanc was Morgana, the history written out in her features.

It had been centuries since LeBlanc had played matchmaker, but the rewards for this coupling had been too good to pass up, and she now stands to learn more about them than ever before.

“She is more faithful than I’d imagined,” Morgana says, pressing her lips to LeBlanc’s neck and teasing her teeth across her fluttering pulse. A look passes between the sisters, and Morgana presses closer against LeBlanc, her satin robe warm and delectable between them. “Oh, spare me, Kayle. It’s one of your less infuriating traits.”

Her nostrils flare, her mouth worked into a thin line, and LeBlanc realizes belatedly that they’ve ventured into rather uncomfortable territory. Uncomfortable for her, bound between them with Morgana’s fingers pressed against her and Kayle’s marks spotting her neck and breasts.

She clears her throat, locking eyes with Kayle, and offers, “It was rather endearing, though not nearly so much as your mouth, darling.”

“And yours was deceitful, witch. I was wrong to trust you.”

“I believe you have a type, dear. Does this happen to you often?”

Morgana gives another hard press of her fingers, and LeBlanc lets out a surprised gasp. “You are delightfully clever, aren’t you? You may have all you wish to know before the night’s end if Kayle isn’t otherwise occupied.” Her gaze cuts between them, and she retreats to the waistband of LeBlanc’s underwear. She taps twice, delicately, and LeBlanc feels a wave of heat rush through her. “Kneel, Kayle.”

“As you wish,” Kayle answers, her eyes already tracking down. She follows, knees dropping, and the touch of her calloused hands against LeBlanc’s thighs has her panting with anticipation.

Kayle, Judicator of the Stars, immortal of another realm, kneels before her, bare of her armor and anger both, leans into her, thumbs pressing into the glyphs sliding along her hips, and takes the band of her underwear between her teeth. Her breath burns, and LeBlanc whispers her approval as Kayle tugs them down, leaving her bare at least.

“I know this isn’t new for you,” Morgana says, peppering kisses along LeBlanc’s neck. Her hand leaves LeBlanc’s side to reach for Kayle, long fingers burying in blonde hair, and when Kayle glances up, there’s reverence in her eyes, a prayer on her tongue. The fingers twist, just shy of painful, and Morgana’s voice is velvet and steel, cool caress making both of them shiver. “Either of you.”

“Are you expecting a show?” LeBlanc manages, breathless.  

“What did you _think_ I came here for?”

Morgana tugs Kayle closer, and she comes to the task eagerly, more eagerly even than when it was just the two of them, even when she was scraping her teeth along LeBlanc’s—Morgana’s, _whoever’s—_ inner thighs. The first touch of her tongue tears a moan from LeBlanc, short and clipped, like she’s choking on the kindness offered to her. The second and third and fourth elicit better responses, a smooth, relieved groan slipping from her lips.

Morgana hums pleasantly in her ear, but there’s heat in her eyes when LeBlanc meets them in the mirror. More surprising is the heavy flush upon her own features, the glassy look in eyes right before she jerks her hips, biting her lip because Kayle has pushed two fingers into her as well.

As terribly submissive as the woman is, she certainly knows how to please a lady.

“How long have you dreamed of this?” Morgana purrs into her ear, her skeletal wings rearranging behind her. “Is this the thought that warmed you when you left us to each other? Did you find solace in your fingers, praying that we would not forget about you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” LeBlanc gasps. “T-twice, in fact.”

Kayle hums against her, a sound that’s two parts disgust to three parts desire, and the vibration makes LeBlanc twist, her thighs tensing.

She can move somewhat, the glyphs on her skin dimming faintly, but all she’s permitted is enough lead to tangle in. LeBlanc writhes, panting, and her hands tense uselessly above her, gripping at the very air.

“And here we are at last.” Morgana’s grip in Kayle’s hair tightens, and she lets out the softest moan against LeBlance. Then she runs her fingers through her hair and drops her hand to Kayle’s shoulder, fingers seeking the base of one wing and stroking it gently. Kayle moans again, her tongue hesitating for only a moment before returning to its work. “Yet the only thing you’ll have of us is what I grant you, what you are given. Seek your histories and spells if you wish, but know that we are through with you, you will have nothing—and you will _thank us_ for it.”

LeBlanc cries out when Morgana digs her nails into the soft flesh of her breast, her thighs tense and trembling, pleasure crackling through her like electricity, and then there’s nothing but stars in her eyes, brilliant and intense and almost too much. She keens out Kayle’s name and Morgana’s name and a deity or three, and all the while, Kayle keeps pressing her on, not letting up until LeBlanc is rushing toward the precipice again, the only anchor to this world Morgana’s hand at her throat, angling her head toward the mirror.

“ _Well_?” she hisses, her eyes burning desire, her breath a caress on her neck. She’s right there, right in her ear, and LeBlanc can’t escape from her, from Kayle, from either of them.

The words tumble from her before she knows what she’s saying, but the second crest loosens her tongue, and she screws her eyes shut and twists helplessly to the sound of her own voice, high with pleasure, breathlessly thanking Morgana and Kayle both.

When she opens her eyes again, Kayle is there, her lips swollen and face flushed, and she kisses LeBlanc delicately, with only Morgana’s pleased hum to remind her there’s more than the angel with the taste of herself on her tongue. LeBlanc groans, but the featherlight brush of fingertips over her hips makes her shudder. Kayle takes her face in both hands, and between the two of them, LeBlanc manages to keep her feet when the glyphs slide from her skim back to Morgana, leaving her trembling body to support itself once more.

“A stimulating display,” Morgana says, lowering her lips to LeBlanc’s shoulder.

She exhales softly when Kayle pulls back, and it takes her a moment to remember how her voice works. “I rather enjoyed it myself.”

“She is serious, witch,” Kayle says, her seriousness betrayed by the want in her eyes. “We have no part in your world, nor do we want one. You will get nothing from us.”

LeBlanc laughs. “Is that what you call this? Nothing must carry a meaning I’m unfamiliar with in your realm, if that’s the case.”

Morgana slips around LeBlanc, her robes swaying around her like ripples in a pond. Everything about her is liquid, and LeBlanc wonders again at her nature, whether flesh and bones reside beneath her skin or something else entirely has fitted itself to her form. Kayle becomes something inhuman at the donning of her armor, yet Morgana has no angelic face to hide her nature, only skeletal wings and burning, violet eyes.

“We can still enjoy the pleasures of this world,” Morgana says, fingers caressing Kayle’s jaw. She pulls her into a kiss that all fiery passion, teeth clacking when they open their mouths to each other.

 _Perhaps an ember remains_ , LeBlanc decides, watching the pair with a dull heat in her gut. _There must be quite the story behind that._

“I agree, darlings,” she purrs, moving in on the two and pressing her lips first to Kayle’s neck and then to Morgana’s. “Why limit yourself when there’s so much to be done?”

They part and look at her, full of heat and familiarity, and LeBlanc cannot contain her smile.

She knows immortals, knows their whims. There is nothing but time for her to learn what she can from them, to add their magic to hers, and in a century or two, perhaps they will slip, or they will take LeBlanc into their confidence. So much can change over the course of a hundred years, and LeBlanc knows not to rush anything. She plays a long game, and there is more than enough to distract her as she passes the time.

“Shall we continue?” LeBlanc asks, and she knows they will—for a very long time.

 


End file.
